My favourite time of day is always during the golden hour: that time when the sun hasn't quite gotten to sunset yet, but the light has gone all golden. And if I'm not outside, my favourite place in the world to be during that time is in my living/dining room -- the light gets all cozy and warm, and it makes me very, very happy.

This past Sunday, I walked through my living/dining area, simply straightening up, and I noticed the light. I know that Sunday evenings tend to bother a lot of people -- I assume because it hints at an impending Monday morning -- but I've always found them lovely and slow, and the light was so inviting, that I decided to grab a book (in this case, Gabrielle Blair's beautiful new book,Design Mom) and a glass of wine, and just sit in its glow for a while.

It was lovely. I may have to start a new Sunday evening tradition. And con Marcus and Alex to join me.

This weekend is promising to be glorious -- our first real spring day, with no sudden dips in the temperature in sight. Last night, we even sat outside for dinner, and watched the bats fly overhead at dusk.

• This week, some friends invited me to take photographs of their staff for their website. They requested two images for each person: one that's sort of the standard bio photo, and then a second one of the subject looking more natural and unposed. I ain't gonna lie: this kind of assignment is one of my very favourite things to do.

• When I first got my SCUBA certification, the first dive I did was off the cost of Cabo San Lucas, swimming with the sea lions. It was magical: sea lions are funny-looking on land, but in the ocean they're graceful, and fast, and extremely playful. So I love this underwater video of sea lions, taken in the Galapagos(a destination I've always wanted to visit). One day, man.

• This 12-minute film is sort of long, but it's worth it: teens from around the world Skype each other. I love what their conversations reveal about themselves and about their perceptions of each other. Really thought-provoking little film.

Around the web, it's not uncommon for people to celebrate "Throwback Thursdays" (or #tbt, for short), where folks share a photograph or a story from years gone by. I often participate solely on my Instagram account, but a few weeks ago I was digging back in my archives of Chookooloonks, and found many stories of Alex as a toddler that I'd totally forgotten. So today, for Throwback Thursday, I thought I'd republish them (with her permission) -- mostly because I don't want to forget them again.

I hope you enjoy them. If stories of toddlerhood aren't your jam, I promise we'll be back to our regularly scheduled Chookooloonks tomorrow.

Sunday, March 12, 2006 (2 years old)

SCENE: Today, about 2 in the afternoon. Karen is crawling around in the bottom of her closet looking for a matching pair of shoes. Enter Alex.

Alex pulls out of the embrace, and smiles beatifically at her mother. Karen's eyes tear up, just a little. Alex turns away, and starts to walk out of the room. Suddenly, she stops, facing the wall in front of her.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

So last night, I was lying on Alex's bed while she was playing with her MegaBloks (sort of like Legos on steroids). Suddenly, without warning, she hurled one of her blocks at my leg, bouncing it neatly off my shin.

The blocks are too small to hurt; however, I couldn't let such behaviour go unaddressed. I looked at her, all prepared to give her my "we don't throw things" speech. As I opened my mouth, my little cherub of a two-year-old looked at me, grinned, and said quietly:

"BULLSEYE."

I have no idea where she got that word -- it's certainly not something I say, nor have I ever heard her father say it. All I do know, however, is that This Does Not Bode Well.

Saturday, September 9, 2006

Marcus just came in from a 4-hour bike ride, reeking of sweat and funk and smelling to high heaven. "Oh my GOD!" I exclaimed, sincerely horrified, and directed him immediately to the hose outside.

Alex looked at me seriously.

"Mummy, not 'oh my GOD,'" she said, frowning. "Oh my GOSH."

Monday, September 25, 2006

Ever since Alex has been potty trained, she's been a little disconcerted as to how to relieve herself when we're on the beach, due to (a) the scarcity of public facilities, and (b) the general nastiness of public facilities. And so, like any good mother would, I've been showing her how to go to the water's edge, dip her bum into the small waves, and pee (oh stop, you'd do the same).

On Saturday, while we were at the considerably populated beach in front of our hotel, Alex had to go. I took her to the water, sat her down on her haunches, and she did her thing.

Inspired by her performance, I took her back to her father, and said, "Stay with Daddy. It's Mummy's turn." I returned to the ocean, swam past the breakers, did my business and eventually returned to the shore. When I reached the lounge chairs, Marcus was smiling at me.

"Did you hear your daughter calling you?"

"No, I didn't."

His grin widened.

"While you were out there, your little cherub was screaming loud enough for everyone to hear:

Last week, when we were making final plans for our spring break holiday, our friend Carl suggested that we bring our kids' bikes. Alex apparently hadn't ridden her bike for longer than we remembered, because once we got to Galveston and she climbed up on her trusty two-wheeler, both Marcus and I were a little surprised that it was clearly far too small for her. It was time for her to graduate to an adult bike.

Luckily, there are two things about our family that makes the fact that she's outgrown her bike not a big deal:

1) Marcus builds and refurbishes bikes as a hobby; and

2) in a fit of optimism about 13 years ago, he bought me a really lovely bike; one that I've ridden exactly once. (Unlike Marcus, bikes are not my jam.)

So once we returned to Houston, Marcus got my old bike and got it in tip-top shape for Alex. And yesterday evening, as the sun was setting, she took it out for a spin.

It was a simple, no-big-deal moment ... and yet, somehow, it felt a little bit like a milestone.

This week begins 5 weeks where I have no travel plans, no speaking engagements, and no pressing deadlines. I haven't had this much time where my schedule is my own since fall of last year.

This isn't to say that I have nothing to do: I'm way behind on many things, and I know I'll be playing a lot of catch-up over the next couple of weeks. But -- and I don't know if it's the fact that the first day of spring has come and gone or not -- I'm ready.

Less than two weeks remain for my little #40daysoflight exercise, sharing a photo of light every day. I have to admit that even as a seasoned light-seeker, this has been harder than I thought it would be -- the rain has been relentless here in Houston over the last few weeks, which means that the light hasn't been as obvious as usual.

But I know that where there is any light, photography is possible; and so the exercise of shooting despite difficult conditions has been good for me. Dark days and overcast skies force me to slow down and really look -- find the reflections and refractions, and the tiny places where light is quietly glowing -- and do what it takes to bring it into focus. To capture it. It has been a great lesson.

The sun is supposed to re-emerge this week, but I'm hoping that I don't forget: slow down.

Take a moment to focus.

And notice the small. The small -- especially when it comes to light -- is important, too.

"I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars."